The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: He isn't quite sure what he did, but he is willing to fix it or prepare to leave her life forever.


** "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot"**

**Summary: He isn't quite sure what he did, but he is willing to fix or prepare to leave her life forever.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story. I also do not own The Boy Who Blocked his own shot that belongs to **

**A/N: I guess you call this fic a cross between a missing moments shot and from Tate's POV of "Piggy, Piggy" So enjoy, sorry in advance.**

**I**

Tate sat in the dark room waiting for her, occupying his usual seat by the window. He sat in the darkness just waiting, he hadn't seen her in days; since Halloween night when the dead breakfast club had chased him down the street back to the beach. It took all of his courage to go down there and confront them that, he might have not done if they hadn't approached her. They could do whatever they wanted to him, but not her, never her.

For some reason he had this fierce protective streak when it came to her, one that he lacked when it came to other people even when it came to himself. He was never one of those narcissists who only cared for himself, he didn't care for anybody. He had to fake it when it came to his own family, they pretended to love him, and so in return he did the same. With Violet though, the need to protect her came so easily, it didn't feel like a burden.

Violet had been pushing him away though, that seemed to odd to him because he wasn't sure what he had done, but he was willing to fix it or prepare to leave her life forever. He stood up and walked through dimly lit bedroom over to the dock that held that _thing,_ an ipod or whatever she had called. He picked and ran his thumb over the wheel unable to see the list and deciding just to leave it on shuffle, hoping that it would land on some Morrissey, Violet loved Morrissey even though he had different opinions but this was a romantic gesture for the words he couldn't keep hidden anymore.

He went over to the chalkboard on the other side of the room and wrote the words that he could never bring himself to say to anybody. He dropped quickly, debating with himself to erase ; the debate cut short by the slamming of the front door. Cue Violet.

**II**

He had managed to get her back into the bedroom, his body tired but she was in more need of him now. He didn't know he had it in him, he had saved her life. Ironic, seeing the first time he met her he was giving her advice on how to end it. But when it came to it, seeing her lifeless body on the bed had made him sick, terrified him. A life without her was a fate worse than death, she was the only thing that was keeping him alive.

Tate still stood there in soaked clothing, his shoes was a squishing noise as he led her to the bed. She was in a state half-consciousness. He laid her on the bed, and immediately began to undress her. He had already pictured seeing her naked, but not like this. Never like this.

He started with her shoes, he pulled them off quickly. Tate toyed with the hem of her dress, slowly he pulled it up to reveal soft pale stomach faint razor lines scattered across; she fidgeted slightly trying to pull away from his grip, he ran a gentle hand over her exposed skin

"Vi," he whispered, "come on, I need to get you out of these wet clothes.

Violet pressed her head into a pillow. " I can do it later," she muttered.

Tate ignored her and went back to peeling her dress off. " No, Vi, you'll catch a cold," he reasoned, shakily.

"Fine, but you better keep your eyes up, shithead."

_Distance._ The same girl who was willing to give her virginity up to him days before now wouldn't even let him change her clothing. Everything about this screamed for him to turn away from her and never look back, but until then he would ignore it and redress her in dry clothes and wait.

**III**

The shift of the bed had woken him from his deep slumber, Violet's hand which he had clasped in his suddenly gone. He rolled over to face her spot on the bed; she lay there on her back. Her chest gently rising and following; heat finally started to radiate from her body once again. The expression on her face was unreadable, that scared him a bit, especially after had professed his love to her.

Tate lifted his hand and stroked against her cheek, she rested her face against his hand. "What's the matter?" he murmured.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, "I was just scared."

His heart sank, what was left of it at least did; she was scared. She wasn't scared of anything, he had finally managed to scare her and he wasn't even trying this time. He didn't say anything, he didn't push it. They just lay there in the silence, not quite sure what their next move should be.

**A/N: This seemed better in my head. Sorry, review?**


End file.
